


Kissable Lips

by InadvertentlyRomantic



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, a little angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InadvertentlyRomantic/pseuds/InadvertentlyRomantic
Summary: Somebody has lips. Somebody else likes kissing those lips. Yep, that's it, people.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very silly one-shot that I came up with while using the Oxford Dictionary to write my school essay.  
> Really, I had no excuse. I just want to get the boys together and kissing.

   Finch had just started his computers in the library when he absentmindedly touched his dry lips. With this cold and bone-dry weather and his penchant for biting them in his concentration, they had become somewhat of a mess lately. Looking around self-consciously to make sure that Reese had not arrived, he fished a chap stick out of his pocket and slapped the waxy substance on his lips. He wasn’t sure why he felt embarrassed for his employee to see him grooming himself, but a huge, unreasonable part in him refused to let Reese see him in anything less than an impeccable state.

    “Oh dear”, he exclaimed, mortified as he realized that, in his haste to get to the Library this morning, he had mistakenly grabbed the chap stick with the strawberry flavor from his bedside table. He had purchased it to use exclusively at home because he had thought it was delicious-tasting and it wasn’t the tinted kind. About to wipe the bloody thing off, he caught Reese’s elegant profile in his peripheral vision and decided, for some reason, to play it cool.

   Unfortunately, for Harold master-of-The-Machine-genius- billionaire Finch, playing it cool in front of the man he was secretly in love with meant pressing his lips together to hide the shiny effect of the lipsalve, and effectively making that particular part of his face more noticeable.

 

    John Reese padded leisurely to Finch’s desk, a happy smile involuntarily tugging at the corner of his lips at the now familiar image of Harold typing like the wind at his desk. Reese briefly wondered how just the sight of this man made his heart stutter like he had just finished a half-marathon. They had not seen each other since dinner together yesterday. It had only been what? Ten hours? And already he could not wait to see the older man. Sighing softly with resignation, John knew he was a goner. He came closer to put down Finch’s tea and the donut box on the work desk and laid a hand casually on his partner’s shoulder to greet him. John was pleased that the other man didn’t stiffen under his touch, but he looked different, strange in some way John couldn’t yet put a finger on.

 “Finch, are you in pain?”, he asked, frowning deeply as he gestured to his own lips to point out how tightly Harold’s lips were pressed together.

 

   At this point, Finch belatedly realized that he wasn’t playing it cool at all, but instead, was acting quite silly, thanks to his love-addled brain. He shook his head a little and opened his mouth to say “No”, already feeling his cheeks burning a little.

    The awkward silence stretched for a couple of minutes until he chanced a glance at John. The taller man was looking at him with thinly-veiled amusement and… something else, something soft and light and altogether too unimaginably sweet for Harold to believe it was meant for him. John crouched down on his knees so that his face was at the same level as Harold’s, and with a smirk that was more fond than teasing, he commented “ You look different today. You look….kissable.”

    Completely stunned by John’s outrageous opinion of his appearance, Harold swerved his chair to stare directly at that infuriating employee of his, his mouth opened for several moments but no words came out, and he imagined his jaw must have dropped to the floor by now. Slowly and shakily, Finch regained his bearings only to realize that he had put his body directly in front of one very handsome and sexy John Reese. His hands were on his lap but they were also mere inches away from that distracting swath of tan skin exposed by the ever-undone top-button of John’s shirt. The crisp white garment turned the tanned flesh of John’s neck and collarbone even more noticeable and, borrowing John’s word, kissable.

 

   John was looking at him patiently with a soft smile, like they had all the time in the world, waiting for him, to do what he could not say. Harold was suddenly stricken with a pang of sadness that he had no name for. He realized he was in way over his brainy head falling in love with this magnificent creature. He didn’t know how to tell John how he felt, and he certainly had no idea what he would do when John inevitably rebuffed the meager offering that was his affections. So once again, like so many times before in his lonely life, Harold Finch decided to turn away from what he wanted most in the world.

   Hardened himself against those green puppy eyes that were looking at him like he was one of the world’s wonders, Finch dismissed John with a curt reply “Mr. Reese, ‘kissable’ is not a real word.”, and intended to turn his chair back to the computers’ screens. But two long arms were trapping him in place and Reese’s smile widened, growing more teasing and predatory: “No? Well, I could swear I had its definition on the tip of my tongue.”. Leaving no time for Harold to find a cutting reply, John got closer, to the point where their faces were separated by the air of their mingling puffs of breath. “Would you like to hear the definition, Finch?”, and his questioning words were swallowed up by a pair of thin dry lips before he could have finished them. Demanding tongue sought his own as if to answer that yes, his partner would really like not only to hear the definition but also taste it.

   Breaking the dazing effect of the kiss, Harold pushed back and looked at John, wide-eyed. “Oh god, what have I done?”, he thought, panic already rising up to make him even more breathless than he already was. Reese’s hooded eyes fixed him with a gentle look and his warm palm set out to caress Harold’s flushed cheek: “You taste like strawberries, Harold. I like it.”. And just like that, Harold remembered how to breathe again.

 

\---

It turned out the strawberry flavor wasn’t what John had enjoyed most about their kiss. Apparently, he liked kissing Harold just fine with or without it on the older man’s lips. His lips found Finch’s every time they were in a room alone together, and he never failed to let his partner know that they did, in fact, always look kissable to him.

Finch never questioned if ‘kissable’ was a real word again.


End file.
